Missing
by wikivikiki
Summary: Gilbert and Eliza always thought they lived the perfect life together. Under the watchful eye of their guardian, they thought that nothing could go wrong. Who knew that they were so, very, wrong?
1. Please

**Chapter One: Please**

Eliza ran through the forest, tears streaking her face and blurring her vision. She didn't know where she was going, or what she was going to do, but she knew that she needed to get out of there.

After learning the truth, she had to escape.

_"Get back here you little bitch!"_

Her bare feet stung against the damp ground as she stumbled over rocks and broken twigs, low-lying branches hitting her in the face as she ran, tangling in her annoyingly long, brown hair. She didn't care, she could barely feel the pain. Right now she was running on pure adrenaline, and pure adrenaline alone.

_"Stop or I'll fucking kill you! You hear? I'll kill you!"_

The moon shone down through the canopy of pines and maples that she swerved and dodged around as she ran, desperately trying to lose him. Emerald eyes were wide with fear, darting left and right, searching for an answer, a way out.

She hated that he had the advantage, she hated that he had her on the run like this. It was pathetic. If she had it her way, she'd be fighting him face to face. Hopefully Gilbert had heard the noise, hopefully Gilbert had picked up on the hints she's been dropping, hopefully he'd get out before it was too late.

She could hear the man gaining on her, his ragged breath growing louder, his rough hands trying to grasp her hair, but instead catching the air she left in her wake.

She knew this was a race she could not win, so she stopped. She whipped around to face the man, with noting but her own body to defend herself. She was tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of this whole damn situation! There was still that small voice in her head, telling her to keep running, to hide, to do everything she didn't want to, but she blocked it out. If she didn't fight, he'd go back for Gilbert. Sure, he could hurt her, beat her to the ground, spit upon her very existence, but just the thought of him hurting those close to her made her vision go red.

He stumbled past her, not excepting her abrupt stop.

"I won't run anymore!" Eliza yelled, watching the man turn around to face her.

For a moment, the forest was silent. Not even the chirping of the crickets could be heard. It was like the entire world had gone mute.

_"You should've just kept your damn nose out if it. You should've listened."_

"Well I'm sorry, but I've never really been all that good at that!" She spat angrily.

This man barely deserved to be called human, he was the true definition of a monster.

_"Tragic. I wonder how I'll explain your disappearance to Gilbert…"_

"Don't worry, I'll make it easy for you. I'm not going anywhere."

The man lunged at her, fist aimed for her face. Eliza dodged, spinning around to elbow him in the back, pushing him down to the ground. The man kicked her legs out from underneath her, and she hit the ground, _hard_. She exhaled, expelling the last bit of air from her lungs, a gasp escaping from her lips. Eliza looked up, and saw his fist coming down onto her. She was too late, and it collided hard with her ribs, knocking the wind from her and sending ripples of pain through her torso. He raised his fist again, and it came into hard contact with her forearms, crossed protectively over her face and chest. Eliza instinctively jabbed her knee into his crotch, sending him rolling off of her. Despite the pain that pulsed though her body and shot through her ribs, Eliza somehow managed to struggle to her feet. It was almost like the world had gone into slow motion. It hurt to stand. It hurt to breathe. This was a battle she couldn't win, no matter what she did, but she wouldn't give up. Eliza knew she was going to die, so why not give him hell and go out fighting? She wished so desperately that she could go back and change this, just the thought of dying scared her, but her head was spinning and she couldn't think right anymore. Fists and feet flew everywhere in a mass of pain and confusion. She was on the ground again, the man looming over her. His hands wrapped tightly around her neck.

_"You. Fucking. BITCH!" _

She struggled against his strong grip, twisting and squirming in an effort to escape, but deep down she knew that she had already lost. Eliza's tears slowly dried as her body grew numb. She didn't know when she had stopped crying, but her vision cleared just long enough for her to see the starts in the night sky.

_"This is the last time I'll ever see them again."_ She thought to herself.

They looked so pretty, she barely registered the darkness slowly creeping into the corners of her vision as her attacker tightened his grip around her throat.

The world went blurry around her, and she knew what was happening. She was dying. Cold, alone, unimportant and insignificant, that's all that her existence had added up to.

_"Please God, let Gilbert be safe. Help him see the truth, and that he escapes safely."_ Eliza thought, the world slipping sideways. _"And God, please save me."_

_Please._

* * *

Gilbert sat on his windowsill, looking out at the clear night sky. Thousands of stars twinkled above him, a full moon illuminating the erie forest that unfolded before him, that's his favourite part about living with Eliza and Mr. Wilson. He smiled at the thought of Eliza, her laugh could brighten up even the gloomiest of days, and her smiles made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Man, she was awesome–not that he'd ever admit it out loud though. She had always told him that when the moon hit his hair just right, it looked like it was glowing white.

_"You must have a piece of moon in you!"_

Gilbert looked around at his room, Mr. Wilson had let him decorate it himself. Purplish-blue walls, bookshelf full of books and a laptop on his desk, to him it was perfect. Strangely, a Prussian flag hung above his bed.

"_Why?"_ Eliza had always asked him.

_"Well, because it's cool!"_ He had always responded.

It was true. He'd never admit it, but he loved history. Everything was so different back then, yet somehow, it was all the same.

He closed his eyes, a small smile playing across his lips. He was so lucky to have the both of them. When he was younger, his parents were killed in a house fire, his only regret was that he could barely remember it. His parent's faces were nothing more than a blurry memory now. Mr. Wilson told him it was a bunch of high schooler's who torched it for fun, but Gilbert had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't the only reason.

_Freak. Demon. Clown. Creep._

The words still echoed in his head, even after all those years.

Mr. Wilson and Eliza, they made him feel normal, like he belonged, and he'd always be grateful to them because of that.

But he couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that pulled at his heart. Gilbert slipped off of the windowsill and silently padded across the hardwood floor on pale feet. The cold floor sent pins and needles through his feet, he curled his toes in with every step. Grabbing the old iron doorknob, he twisted it gently and pulled the door open, slipping silently into the hallway. He didn't want Mr. Wilson to know he was out of his room past curfew. Gilbert slunk down the hall to Eliza's room, dramatically plastering himself to the wall, pretending he was a spy on a secret mission. In his head, theme music was playing. When he finally got there, he gave a timid knock.

"Psst! Eliza! It's the awesome me, Gil. Eliza? You in there?"

Hearing no response, he opened the door. Not too much though, just a crack; enough to see if she was in there. She wasn't. Closing the door, Gilbert made his was back to his room.

_This isn't very awesome, where could she be?_

Mr. Wilson had pulled her aside after dinner, and as he suspected, she wasn't back yet.

Gilbert flopped down on his bed, stuffing his face into his blue pillow and inhaling the fresh scent.

Debating weather or not to stay up and wait for her, or just go to bed, Gilbert was pulled from his thoughts by a loud crash coming from downstairs.

Immediately he was on his feet, making his way to the door. Were Mr. Wilson and Eliza alright? A thousand possibilities were swirling through Gilbert's mind.

_Are they hurt? Did somebody break into our home? Did Mr. Wilson have a heart attack? Did Eliza faint?_

Every single plausible thought he could think of was totally unawesome. Gilbert ran to his bed, he had a baseball bat under there, for emergencies of course! Gilbert grabbed the bat sprinted down the stairs when he heard the door slam shut followed by Eliza's scream, and Mr. Wilson yelling for her to come back.

_I knew it, B&E._

If anything Eliza was chasing after that bastard, he almost felt sorry for him.

Gilbert jumped off the last five stairs, vaulting himself over the sofa. He couldn't help but smile at that small victory.

_Awesome._

Gilbert burst through the door, but they were already out of sight, but he didn't feel discouraged, he could see the path of destruction that they had made. Baseball bat in hand, Gilbert ran off into the forest.

_Don't worry Eliza, you to Mr. Wilson! I'm coming!_

His feet rhythmically pounded against the mossy earth, his legs pumping as fast as he could go.

_"You fucking bitch!"_

Gilbert came to a grinding halt. That voice, it was Mr. Wilson's. He stood there in shock and disbelief, not having the ability to process what he was seeing.

Mr. Wilson was on the ground. Eliza was beneath him. He was choking her. Mr. Wilson was choking Eliza.

_W-why? How?_

Mr. Wilson released his grip from around Eliza's neck, _"I told that bitch I'd kill her."_

The baseball bat slipped from his grip.

_No. No, this can't be real!_

He had just stood there while Charles, Mr. Wilson, his protective guardian, killed Elizaveta.

"This has to be a dream! Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

Mr. Wilson jerked towards Gilbert, the rage draining from his eyes.

"Gilbert, what are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here!" Panic was creeping into his usually monotonous voice.

"You-YOU BASTARD!" Gilbert screamed, grabbing the bat.

He wasn't even thinking, all he felt was blind fury and anger, and he let those feelings guide him.

"Why did Eliza have to die? What did she ever do wrong? WHAT DID SHE EVER DO TO YOU!"

He raised it high above his head, only to have it knocked from his hands, Mr. Wilson tightly grabbing each of his wrists.

"Stop struggling, you don't want to end up like Eliza now, do you?"

"YOU KILLED HER! WE TRUSTED YOU, AND-"

"Shhh…" He whispered, covering his mouth and nose with a sweet-smelling cloth, "Just, go to sleep…"

Gilbert struggled against his grasp, trying not to inhale. He knew it was chloroform.

"Don't worry." Mr. Wilson cooed, "Tomorrow we start over. Doesn't that sound nice Gilbert? No matter how many mistakes you make, you can always start over…"

Gilbert's lungs burned for air, but he didn't dare give up. He couldn't, Eliza was dead.

"What do you say Gilbert? How does that sound? A world with no consequences…"

He couldn't bear it anymore, Gilbert gasped for breath, inhaling the sweet, pungent scent.

"No." He managed to croak, "There are always… consequences…"

He tried to hold his breath again, but found himself not in control of his body. His limbs felt heavy and numb, vision swimming in front of him and his ears began to ring. His eyes drooped, and the world around him became fuzzy.

Gilbert passed out before he could hear the reply.

* * *

_A/N: Hey! This fic is based off of the song Missing by Evanescence. If you haven't heard the song yet, I suggest you do! I had previously published a story under the same title and plot, but it sucked horribly so I deleted it and re-wrote it. I hope you like this version better! I would really appreciate some comments, sometimes they're the only things that keep me going. Make sure to check out my profile for updates and more fanfictions._

_Love, Vic_

_P.S. Don't worry, Eliza isn't dead! I wouldn't kill her... yet... _


	2. Isn't Something Missing?

**Chapter Two: Isn't Something Missing?**

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Every heartbeat sending a sprawling pain through Gilbert's pounding head. Breathing hurt. Every inhale, every exhale, sent pain throbbing through his chest. His lungs were on fire, a burning sensation spreading through them. He tried to open his eyes, but it was as if they had been cemented shut; a faint light filtered through his eyelids. He opened his mouth to speak, to call out, but nothing happened. The mere action of trying to speak stung his throat, feeling like sandpaper had rubbed it raw.

_No, not now. I-it hurts too much. I'll wake up later…_

* * *

In his pain-induced stupor, he barely thought to wonder why. Why did he feel this pain? Why was Eliza not by his side? Why couldn't he remember anything from last night?

It was dark now. Gilbert opened his eyes, no longer in a state of constant pain. His head no longer throbbed, his lungs no longer burned, his throat no longer rubbed-raw. He felt a strange sense of calm wash over him, the same feeling you'd get after crying; exhausted, but content. Hollow. Slowly, he propped himself up on his elbows, but the feeling of dizziness overtook him. Bile rose up in his mouth, but he swallowed it back down. The world began spinning around him, and Gilbert collapsed back onto his bed, clutching his bedsheets. As quickly as it came, the feeling was gone once more, leaving nausea in its wake.

_I'll just fall asleep again. I'm sure Eliza will come and wake me up, yelling at me for being so idiotic, hurting myself…_

Gilbert shot up, nearly blacking out. A sense of urgency rushed through him.

_How did I hurt myself? Where's Eliza? What happened to her?_

He knew there was no logical reason to worry about her. Why would she be in trouble? Even if she was, she could most certainly take care of herself. Yet, despite every logical thought, panic swelled through his chest.

His breaths came short and shallow. No, he couldn't let the panic consume him. Not now. He stood, swaying, but unintimidated. He needed answers. Gilbert stumbled down the maple stair-case, the old house creaking with each step he took. Nearly tripping over his own feet, he came to an abrupt halt. There in front of him was an old brass mirror. It was a simple mirror, there was nothing special about it, all except for the reflection that stared right back at him.

An ivory bandage wrapped around his head, sloppily, silver hair spilling over. Angry purplish-blue bruises–the same colour as his bedroom walls–wrapped rings around his neck and wrists; they were painful to the touch. His porcelain skin held a sickly glow, and tiny scratches littered his arms, face, and legs. When did this happen? _How_ did this happen? He stood in front of the mirror like a deer caught in headlights, entranced by his reflection. Bits and pieces of memories darted through his mind, brief, fleeting. A cold chill stealing the breath from his lungs, damp soil between his toes, shrill screams, pain, panic. He tried to hold onto them, to seize them for just a moment. But like smoke, the memories seemed to slip through his grasp.

He stood there for what seemed like ages, lost in thought. Busy concentrating on his thoughts, trying to remember something, the boy barely noticed Mr. Wilson put his hand on his shoulder.

He whispered: "Gilbert."

His tone was low, grievous.

He didn't want to believe it, he prayed that he was wrong, but he knew what Mr. Wilson was about to say before it even left his mouth.

Gilbert collapsed to the ground, his knees striking the stiff floorboards. Tears flowed from the corners of his ruby eyes, sliding down his cheeks, forming streams and they fell faster and faster. Everything sounded distant, as if he was underwater. He felt himself being pulled into a tight embrace, a hand running through his messy hair, playing with the end of his loose bandages. A voice whispered hushes and comforting words into his ear, but the only thing he could hear were the words that repeated over and over in his head:

_"Eliza's dead."_

* * *

_A/N: Oh my! I'm so sorry this is short. I usually write at least 1-2k per chapter, but it just seemed like a good idea to end off there. I'm actually very happy with my writing style at the moment, which is rare for me. In AP English we've been analyzing texts and literary devices, so I was able to put that to good use. A huge thanks to my beta Rose from RoselynM. I don't think I'd consider this publishable if it weren't for you!_

_Love, Vic_


End file.
